Childhood's End
by OrangeBlossomMoss
Summary: Ever wonder how Callisto was transformed from an orphaned farm-girl to skilled war-leader? I did, so I wrote this...
1. Chapter 1

She didn't learn the word "irony" until many years later, but if Callisto had known the word, she'd have known it was what she was experiencing now.

Not that long ago, she and her playfriends had fantasized, often, about what it would be like to live in a grand palace, with marble walls and comfortable furniture, surrounded by nobles and servants. Their real futures, of course, would involve marriage to acceptable, strapping young village lads, hard work on their farms, and motherhood.

Then one day, the army of the warrior woman Xena had swept through Cirra, and young Callisto's world had turned upside down.

Now she was walking with a servant girl, through the granite and marble halls of a grand palace that was far beyond what her inexperienced child's mind could have imagined… and it was her peaceful future as a wife and mother, that had become a mere daydream.

Her life had been a waking nightmare since Xena's attack. Cowering just inside the door of her family home, she had seen her elder sister assaulted by three of Xena's soldiers. Seen her sister fight back against the men, and die for it. Seen her mother, Arleia, cut down by the swords of the same soldiers- her blood had spattered Callisto's face as she fell. In her dreams, she could still taste it. She had seen the village put to the torch, the people being slaughtered all around her.

She had managed to slip away, unseen, in the smoke and the chaos, and had come upon two other children and one of the village women in the woods nearby. The woman had tried to lead them to the next village, to safety, but she hadn't known there would be slavers following in Xena's bloody wake. The men had captured Callisto and her companions and carted them away.

A port. A slave ship. She had endured much on that voyage; such indignities that no woman- or man- should have to endure at the hands of other humans.

They had come to this strange place, dry and hot. She had been put up on the auction block like a piece of livestock, and sold there.

She understood she was now in a land called Persia, and she was now a slave to the house of His Most Excellent Majesty, the Sultan Farhid al Suleiman.


	2. Chapter 2

The palace was magnificent, decorated with colored mosaics and ornate stone carvings. It was blessedly cool, too, despite the shimmering heat outdoors. Callisto's mind was still too numb for her to appreciate the beauty all around her, but the coolness was a great relief.

The servant girl led her into a strange, luxurious room with walls and floor of veined purple marble. On a dais surrounded by white alabaster pillars was an enormous bed, and on the bed was a woman.

The woman was beautiful, in a feral sort of way. Her outfit was made of gauzy black stuff; she wore an amazing amount of gold jewelry. She had dusky brown skin (unlike most of the people Callisto had seen, who were sort of a tan color) and glossy black hair styled in myriad tiny braids. A young boy, about Callisto's age, sat staring into thin air, his head cushioned on the woman's hip. Sitting on either side of the bed were two enormous yellow cats with black spots; a third lay on the bed beside the woman. She stroked its head with one hand while she stroked the boy's head with the other.

The woman, and the cats, all looked at Callisto with the same golden eyes and steely gaze, as if she were mere prey to be toyed with and then killed at leisure.

The servant prostrated herself before these creatures and signaled to Callisto to do the same.

"What have we here?" the woman murmured languidly.

"Most Excellent Lady," the servant said, "The master of the slaves sends his regards, and hopes he has found what you had commanded; this child."

"Hmm, yes." The woman's voice was cold. "Look up at us, child." Callisto raised her head to gaze at the woman, who looked her over thoroughly without leaving her perch on the bed. "Old enough to suit my purpose, I think, and young enough to be molded. And exotic as well. I think she'll do." She clapped her hands lightly, and the servant looked up. "Leave the girl here and go fetch me that Greek witch."

The girl hurried off, not daring to run lest the animals be tempted to give chase. She was followed by the contemptuous gaze of the animals as she left.

"Mehmet, sweetheart, we've bought you a playmate," the woman said.

The boy, Mehmet, said "Phillip."

"Be patient, Mehmet. I want you to look at-"

"Phillip! Phillip! Phillip!"

"All right," the woman sighed. "Go back to Phillip."

The boy slid off the bed and trotted out of the room without another word.

Callisto continued to lie unmoving on the floor. The woman made a small clucking noise with her tongue, and one of the cats approached the trembling child and sniffed her. It touched her bare arm with its tongue, and she made a small, frightened noise. The woman laughed softly. The beast moved lower, and suddenly closed its great mouth on the back of Callisto's thigh- not yet breaking the skin, merely holding her- and she began to cry.

"This shall be my only warning to you, girl," the woman intoned. "If you displease His Majesty, there are many ways you may die. If you displease me, there will be but one way."

At that moment, there was the sound of footsteps, and from the corner of her eye Callisto saw someone enter the chamber. The Greek witch, she supposed.

"Ah. Echo," the woman spoke in a spitefully playful tone. "Echo, Echo, Echo."

"Yes, Lady Nofret," answered the witch.

"Take this piece of human offal, and make it fit to serve in the harem." She clucked again, and the cat let go of Callisto's leg and returned to its place by the bed.

The witch made a disapproving sound.

"Not right away, of course- Mehmet is hardly ready. For now, all he needs is a playmate. Someone who can grow up by his side and earn his trust without endangering his call to the throne. But clean her, train her, and make sure she understands her place here."

"As you wish, Lady Nofret," said the witch. "Get up child, and come with me."

Callisto scrambled to her feet and took the hand the witch offered, but she didn't raise her eyes from the floor until the purple chamber was well behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

When she did look up, Callisto got a surprise, for the witch… was hardly what she had expected. She was a small woman, hardly taller than Callisto herself, with milk-pale skin. Her hair was the bright red-gold of new copper coins, and her eyes were as green as the sea. She wore a gown that very nearly matched her hair.

She cocked her head at Callisto and smiled. She said nothing, but continued to lead down the hall.

"Who… who was that woman, back there?" Callisto asked, when the silence became too much for her.

"That was the Kadin, Nofret al Farhid, mother of the sultan's heir… and your mistress, now," the witch replied. "And what is your name"

"I'm Callisto."

"Pleased to meet you, Callisto. My name is Echo."

"The one in the story? You're _that_ Echo?"

"What story?"

"Um… it said she was a wood-nymph, or something, until the goddess Hera punished her for being a chatterbox."

Echo sighed. "Yes, that would be me." They rounded a corner, and now Callisto could hear voices, and splashing water.

"But the story says you died. It says you fell in love with a boy named Narcissus, and pined away and died for his love."

"Obviously not," Echo snorted.

"And then he died too. And now… you're concubine?"

"I'm on hiatus at the moment, but yes. I'm a concubine, and you will be too."

Callisto shuddered. She'd had enough of the attentions of men, on the slave ship, to last her a dozen lifetimes. She tried to put it from her mind.

They passed between a pair of armed guards, under a carved archway, and into the harem.

The room was large and airy, furnished with divans, chairs, large potted plants and small tables, and was dominated by a large round pool with a fountain at its center. The ceiling seemed to be of nearly transparent alabaster, for it admitted light without giving any view of the sky.

There were a large number of women present, dressed in gauzes all the colors of the rainbow. Some bathed in the pool, some were reading, two were playing at some sort of board games, and some were grooming each other and eating sweetmeats- none were engaged in anything the least bit useful, at least not that Callisto could see, except for one beaming young woman who reclined against a pillar, nursing a baby. There were men as well, but very odd-looking men- beardless, pudgy and soft. They looked as if they were no more useful than the women.

Not one of these people, she thought, had ever plowed a field or slaughtered a pig.

One of the pudgy men came swiftly to Echo and bowed.

"My lady, what is your will?" he asked, his voice high and womanish.

"Start drawing a warm bath for the new arrival, Bahram."

The man bowed again and hurried off, disappearing into a curtained area at the far end of the room. Echo beckoned for Callisto to follow her behind the same curtain.

Here was a cozy antechamber with rows of earthen jars on shelves, herbs drying on racks, pots, bottles, needles, star charts, and other things Callisto couldn't identify. There was a metal bathtub, which Bahram was already filling with steaming water that seemed to come from a fat tube that ran up the wall and into the ceiling, and two beds- a narrow cot and a more comfortable one against another wall. Hanging asleep from perches near the ceiling, were several enormous bats

Echo bustled about, quickly choosing several herbs and liquids and portioning them into the bathwater.

"I'll take your clothes, young miss," Bahram said, reaching out towards Callisto. She shrank back against the wood-nymph.

"No! Don't touch me!"

"It's all right," Echo soothed. "Bahram won't hurt you. You just need to bathe."

Not entirely trusting them, Callisto turned her back on Bahram and stiffly removed her ragged garments. She handed them wordlessly behind her.

"By the gods, these stink," Bahram said. "They'll have to be burned."

"But what will I wear?"

"New clothes, clean ones," Echo said. "Come now, into the water with you."

She helped Callisto into the tub. The hot water tingled, and then it stung. Every scrape and cut on her body seemed to burn as the water touched it… and then the burning was replaced by a wonderful, soothing coolness. Still clutching Echo's hand, Callisto lowered herself gingerly into a sitting position. Pain shot up between her legs like a sword-thrust, and she cried out in spite of herself.

"Oh dear," Bahram murmured. "Echo?"

"Tell me, child," Echo said, very gently, "while you were being brought here, were you…"

"Yes," Callisto whispered, hanging her head. "There were men, on the slave ship. They… it hurt… and they thought it was funny… and…"

The coolness was already spreading upward. She sobbed. Echo stroked her hair quietly.

"Will this take the pain from my mind, too?" Callisto asked.

"Nothing can do that," Echo shook her head. "But it will heal your body, which is no small thing."

Callisto pinched her nose shut and submerged herself completely. She opened up her mouth and let the water flow inside. Every tiny pain, even to the merest hangnail, washed away from her flesh.

A strange, pleasant lethargy seemed to come over her as she came up for air. She felt herself falling asleep, and fought it briefly, as gentle hands lifted her from the water and toweled her dry. Then she lost the fight, and sleep took her.

She did not awaken for two days.


	4. Chapter 4

Smoke and fire and screams followed Callisto down into her dreams. She awoke shivering and disoriented.

It was early morning, cool and quiet. The only sound was a soft scritching of a pen on parchment. Callisto looked around and found that clean clothes had been left out for her, along with a dish of fruit and bread.

She examined her skin. Every wound was healed, leaving only a few faint scars.

At a small table, Echo was writing something, totally absorbed in her work.

"Echo?"

"Mmm? Oh, good, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Okay I guess. Hungry." Callisto picked up the bread, tore off a piece, and stuffed it in her mouth.

"Well, good. Get dressed, and Bahram will show you to the privy."

Callisto ate mechanically as she slipped into her clothes. Physically, she _did_ feel okay. Something was off, though, something was wrong. It seemed she could still hear, faintly, the screams of her dying family and the crackle and roar of flames.

She cocked her head. Maybe there was a fire somewhere here?

"Oh." Callisto wondered out of the little curtained area and found Bahram waiting for her.

"You'll have a full bladder, I expect," he commented. "Come along."

Callisto wasn't too confident about the 'privy' that Bahram showed her to; it was nothing like the midden she had used back in Cirra. But then, everything was different here.

"Now, you shall spend some time with the prince."

"Doing what?"

"Ah." Bahram made a face. "At first, it would be best if you just sat still, watched, and did nothing. The Young Sir does not enjoy changes to his routine."

He led her to a cavernous, empty room, and they sat on a cushioned settee by the door. There were few windows, and no other furniture except for a long, tall bank of shelves filled with tiny figures. More figures were set out in patterns on the floor- ranks and ranks of tiny soldiers.

Mehmet came wandering in. He took no notice of Bahram or Callisto; instead he went straight to the layout on the floor. He circled the display once, staring at it intently. Then he picked a long, flat stick from one of the shelves and began laboriously moving the various soldiers in groups, and muttering under his breath.

"Alexander," he said quietly. "Alexander, Alexander."

Bored, Callisto found a window to stare out. The air outside shimmered and rippled in the heat, like the air over a fire.

"Is something burning out there?" she whispered. Bahram held a finger to his lips. Mehmet looked up, briefly, but he didn't appear to see either of them sitting there.

"No noise," he said. "No noise, no noise."

The boy was weird, Callisto thought. She couldn't imagine how she would ever get his attention, much less become his playmate. She was too old to be a playmate any way.

She watched the heat-shimmer, fascinated.

After a while, the eunuch allowed her to walk to the window, which was barred. She looked out over a vast number of whitewashed buildings. The sun beat relentlessly on their pallid roofs, and waves of heat rose off the entire city. Somewhere, to the north perhaps, she could faintly hear the rush of waves and the cry of seabirds; but from the window, she could only see the city, and beyond it, the desert.

The desert was an ocean of sand, burned lifeless by the sun. To her eyes it was gray as ashes.

That was the whole of her morning- gazing out the window while the prince rearranged (and sometimes removed) tiny soldiers from the floor. With nothing to occupy her mind, her thoughts kept circling back to Cirra.

Fire, smoke, screams. And in the distance, a warrior woman with coal-black hair: Xena.

For a week or so, that was life- stultifying mornings sitting and watching Mehmet, while the destruction of Cirra loomed larger and larger in her mind. Boring afternoons learning the rules of the palace, or napping and sinking into nightmares.

One day, a pair of men appeared in the doorway. One, young and fairly good-looking, walked with a pair of canes- obviously crippled. The other, middle-aged and powerfully built, had an air of power and sorrow about him. Seeing them, Bahram bowed his head and indicated that Callisto should do the same.

"This, Lysander, is my son and heir, Mehmet," said the elder.

"No noise," Mehmet chided, moving another rank of toy soldiers.

"He has a fondness for military tactics, I see, Most Excellent Majesty," Lysander said.

Callisto dared to glance up again; so this was the sultan!

"Yes," the older man- Farhid- replied. Careful not to let even the hem of his robes brush against the toy soldiers, he made his way across the floor to his son. Then he crouched beside the boy and produced two new figures from a pocket.

"Look, Mehmet," he said gently. "I've brought you Leonidas."

The boy turned his empty eyes slowly towards his father.

"Leonidas," Farhid prompted.

"Leonidas. King of Sparta. Defeated by Xerxes at the battle of Thermopylae," Mehmet said. He took the little solder and stroked it happily.

"And this is Xena," Farhid added, handing him a miniature woman on horseback.

"Xena. Destroyer of Nations. Pirate. Warlord."


End file.
